Which of the four brushes do I use?
Do I put water on the brush or leave it dry?
Do I use gel or hairspray?
These are the questions I ask myself as I run a comb through my daughter’s hair this morning.
We are supposed to meet Kim at church in fifteen minutes, and it takes me ten to catch Kai racing around the house.
When I say, “We are going to make it on time!” all I hear is laughter coming from the living room.
Yet, I don’t want to rush it.
Few parents will mention these moments to those considering starting a family. They will gush about watching their son hit for the cycle or their daughter’s perfect technique at the dance recital. No doubt, these are memorable accomplishments that make both child and parent proud.
But raising four children has taught me to appreciate the more mundane moments. Maybe it’s a survival technique.
I’m careful to grab hold of Anna’s hair as I comb through a few snarls. “Are you making me pretty, Dad?”, she asks.
I finished combing her bangs before lifting her up by the waist so she could see herself in the mirror.
She flipped her hair and smiled.
And answered her own question.